


Love of My Life

by CrescentMoonRising



Series: The Night is Darkest Before the Dawn [10]
Category: Actor RPF, British Actor RPF, Marvel Cinematic Universe, Real Person Fiction, Tom Hiddleston - Fandom
Genre: Angst, Broken Heart, End of a Relationship, F/M, Feels, Longing, Pain, Tearjerker, Tears, song inspiration
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-17
Updated: 2015-10-17
Packaged: 2018-04-26 20:21:45
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,297
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5019115
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CrescentMoonRising/pseuds/CrescentMoonRising
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A look into Tom's perspective at the end of his relationship with his long term girlfriend.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Love of My Life

**Author's Note:**

> This is a standalone one-shot but is part of the story The Way We Were. It's Tom's thoughts and views during chapters four and five, after his girlfriend has left him. The entire piece was inspired by the song "Love of My Life" by Queen and the lyrics are interwoven through the piece. If you want a real bang for your pain, listen to the song while you read.

_Love of my life, you’ve hurt me_  
_You’ve broken my heart_  
 _And now you leave me_  
 _Love of my life, can’t you see?_

 

Once his tears dried and he realized that he was indeed, still alone, Tom rose from the kitchen floor, his body completely weakened from the sobs that tore through him.  He had lost track of how long it was that Noelle left their flat, the hollow sounds of cars on the street below while the wind rattled against the windows. Blindly, he retreated to the opposite end, weaving through their couches until he found their bedroom.  

 _He couldn’t call those things ‘theirs’ anymore, could he?_ No, it was all too much to think of that now.  

Sinking into the mattress, his eyes trailing upwards, he felt a strange weight in the palm of his right hand.  From the pale light that shone through the windows, he sighed longingly at the emerald and diamonds.  With less of a thought of the finality of her actions, and more a desire of the offending piece of jewelry to get out of his sight, he opened his side table drawer and threw it in, before curling away from the opposite side of his bed.  

* * *

 _Bring it back, bring it back_  
_Don’t take it away from me_  
 _Because you don’t know_  
 _What it means to me_

 

Everyone had someone to say, some advice to give and he pretended he’d heard them all, ignoring most on the cool nights spent in his trailer or the spare bedroom of Rodney’s house.  He went through the final weeks of his tenure as Hank in complete silence.  How had he not noticed that his heart still jumped when he saw her name on his phone? It became clear as day when it disappeared from sight. 

_She’ll come around.  It’s all just temporary, we’re meant to be together._

But the nagging sensation, the painful ache, refused to abate as the nights grew longer and the days much colder.

* * *

 _Love of my life, don’t leave me_  
_You’ve taken my love_  
 _And now desert me_  
 _Love of my life, can’t you see?_

 

When he walked in that door, the one she walked out, he was met by a foreign sense of unease.  This was his home, was it not? Home was welcoming, home was where your comfort lay, home was where your heart remained. 

But not in the middle of the December cold. 

It took but a moment for Tom to note the change, the pieces missing from side tables, mugs removed from counters and the strange sense of cleanliness.  There were no shoes, no jackets, no pots of cream strewn around the house.  It was all in place, and neat as a pin.  It was wrong, all wrong.

With a sweep of his hand, mail and packages crashed onto the floor.  He held back the tears, inhaling the cool yet stale air of the flat.  He was done with crying. If Noelle wanted to leave him, then so be it.  He was done.  He’d find a way to enjoy this new normal as it were.  Change could be good, right? At least that was what everyone told him.  

He’d spend his nights with the friends that remained. Those pals ready for a drink and an ear to listen as he proclaimed his newfound freedom.  Life would be different for him.  2015 would bring three new films, and plenty of opportunity to see the world and experience life in a new light.  Shouldn’t he feel happy?

* * *

 _You will remember_  
_When this is blown over_  
 _And everything’s all by the way_  
 _When I grow older_  
 _I will be there at your side_  
 _To remind you how I still love you_  
 _I still love you_

 

He ignored the stares of his sisters as they all milled around his mother’s Christmas table.  Sarah, holding the baby, chastising him for his gaunt features and hollow stare.  Emma, focused about his schedule and when he’d be filming again. When would he be back in the routines of acting, which they hoped would keep him from drinking?

His mother kept silent when not focused on the food or her grandbabies. Of course, since she was unable to mention  _her_ , mention why  _she_  wasn’t there, or question after two years of the beautiful girl gracing her table, as to why her seat was empty? How could this happen? Noelle belonged with them, especially at the holidays. Had she gone back to her parents? Tom had no answers.

Thoughts raced of Christmases that were never to be.  Ones that had them smiling as husband and wife, giggling under mistletoe and sharing minced pies until they wanted to burst.  Private exchanging of gifts, and then in the years to come, after their children went to bed awaiting the arrival of St. Nick.

When it all became too much, he escaped to his old bedroom.  Even there, however, memories greeted him.  The first time he brought Noelle upstairs and how she laughed at his old photos and gushed over his awards.  His hands shook as he opened a succession of texts which had no responses.

_Merry Christmas, Noelle. I still love you._

His holiday greeting would remain unanswered, as well.

* * *

 _Hurry back, hurry back_  
_Please, bring it back home to me_  
 _Because you don’t know_  
 _What it means to me_

 

Stumbling through the hallway, having finished off the bottle of whiskey not long prior, he fumbled for his keys as he collapsed into the front door.  For a moment, a blessed, drunk moment, he thought he heard her.  Tom called her name, over and over, to no response. He flailed for the light fixtures and a firm surface.   _  
_

When he did turn on the overheads, all was as he left it earlier.  His clothes lay about the couches while his mug remained on the counter. Two feet would have taken it into the sink, but he scoffed at the thought.  It wasn’t as if he needed to clean up after himself.

No, he was back to his home, back to his empty bedroom.  Deafening silence greeted him again like a good friend and he sat on his bed to find something for focus.  All he could feel was his mobile in his pocket.  It weighed as a stone on his chest, similar to the the one that resided within it.

He neglected to try the number that refused his calls and ignored his texts.  Instead, he attempted the other person who he lost in all of this. His friend, who rightly dumped him for his infantile and self-centered behavior.

After the short conversation, Benedict’s words echoed through his inebriation, _“You know her profession, you know who she works with at this time of year. I suggest you do some digging and make yourself known.”_ Tom stared at the blank screen and as if a fog lifted, he started to open the apps on opposing tabs in his phone.  

Los Angeles. First flight available is the evening one.  He’d get in sometime in the middle of Saturday. Check-in baggage? Nope. He contemplated even going without a carry-on, but a change of underwear might be helpful at some point.  A toothbrush might as well.  

With a purpose he ran into the kitchen to make some coffee and while the lights blinked on the machine, he picked up all his clothes and brought them in the bedroom.  When he bumped into his nightstand the memory flooded to him.  Blinking back tears, he reached around and over the pens and paper, change and various other random items that end up in those drawers.  It was as his hand wrapped around the cool metal that a sense of right rushed over his body.  

 

_Love of my life  
Love of my life_

 

 


End file.
